


My Face Is Just My Face

by parkneroses



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Idiots in Love, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Prompt, i'm glad thats already a tag, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 20:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19893694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkneroses/pseuds/parkneroses
Summary: “Gonna fix me up all nice and good, Madam Pomfrey?” Harley grinned up at Peter, who was fixing a bowl of water and a washcloth.“Wish I was Madam Pomfrey. Maybe I could make a potion that would finally shut you up.”





	My Face Is Just My Face

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request from my prompts list on Tumblr (@parkneroses). Shoot me an ask if you want to request something!
> 
> SPIDEYBOYKOOK ASKED: hi!! can you do 17 for parkner? just found your acc and i love it! i needed more parkner accs to follow
> 
> 17 - “Guess who broke their nose? I broke my nose!”
> 
> (rated G because i only dropped one f-bomb and that's family-friendly right?)

Harley ran into the intern’s lab grinning like an idiot.

“PETER!”

Peter didn’t look up from his laptop. The bags under his eyes seemed to reach the floor, and his table was littered with loose papers and empty coffee mugs stacked sky-high. He clearly was _not_ in the mood to deal with Harley’s enthusiasm right now.

“Guess who broke their nose?” Harley was bouncing on his heels, energy rolling off him in waves. Peter’s neck snapped up, but before he could say anything, Harley cut in. “-It was me! I broke my nose!” He was still smiling so wide Peter was surprised his jaw wasn’t aching. Harley turned to the side to show off the state of the art bloody purple bruise on his very, _very_ broken nose.

Peter turned back to his screen and sighed. He was just so, so tired. He felt himself faceplant into his keyboard but he didn’t register it until Harley said, “Peter? You’re messing up your code.”

Peter lifted his head up and groaned at the page full of keyboard smash he’d managed to type with his forehead.

“Harley… you are so stupid I am in physical pain from just being in your presence.”

Harley was still smiling, as though he couldn’t even feel the fleshy bloody alien monster that was crawling out of a hole in his face. Peter rolled his shoulders to wake himself up and pushed himself out of his chair.

“Med bay, c’mon,” He grunted as he pulled Harley by his shoulder into the elevator.

*

This elevator was smaller than Peter remembered.

At least that’s how it felt as Harley stood entirely too close to him for comfort.

Or perhaps comfort wasn’t the right word. There was something to be said about how Peter’s heartbeat slowed whenever Harley was around. He could feel his tension melt away, and the constant ringing in the back of his head- his spidey senses, or anxiety, or whatever it was that made him feel like he was a puppet whose strings were far too tight- would let up and he could finally feel truly calm.

But he couldn’t appreciate that right now. Not when Harley’s chest was almost pressed up against his own, breath tickling Peter’s cheeks. And especially not when he noticed Harley’s nose-bruise (his nuise?) was turning green around the edges. Peter sighed dramatically and figured they could get this over with quicker if he stopped staring longingly into Harley’s face hole and actually sorted out the cause of this. The elevator opened up on the 87th floor- Medical Services (because of _course_ the Avengers needed an _entire floor_ dedicated to stitching up the one or two wounds that hadn’t healed by the time they made it out of the alien robot infested warzone that was downtown Manhattan. _No_ , Mr Stark, that’s not overkill at _all_. It’s not like people are out there _starving_ or anything). Peter dragged Harley out of the elevator to the beds by his wrist. Harley didn’t seem to want to complain about the close contact, even if he was dripping blood on Peter’s sleeve. Peter gestured vaguely to a bed and he sat down on it.

“Gonna fix me up all nice and good, Madam Pomfrey?” Harley grinned up at Peter, who was fixing a bowl of water and a washcloth.

“Wish I was Madam Pomfrey. Maybe I could make a potion that would finally shut you up,” Peter muttered with no real edge to his voice, as he began gently washing away the blood. ‘How long ago did you take painkillers? This is really wide and really deep. I’m gonna have to stitch this up.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s what she said. Second, I didn’t take painkillers. I came straight here after I finished beating up Flash,” Harley said, still smiling up at Peter like the little ray of idiotic, aggressive, impulse control-less sunshine he was.

“What? You’ve been smiling at me this whole time, and you didn’t even take- hold on a second, did you say _Flash?_ ” Peter asked, dropping the washcloth on his lap, creating a large wet patch that Harley would surely tease him for later. He couldn’t bring himself to care though, not when Harley just said he’d been beating up Flash of all people. How had they even met? And what could Flash have possibly done-

“Tony told me he’d been bothering you, so I found him after your decathlon practise and he was bein’ all dick-ish n’ shit- said somethin’ like, ‘Oh, are you Parker’s boyfriend? Come to threaten me for not sucking up to him? You best friends with Tony Stark too?’”

Harley’s Flash impression was all off. He pitched his voice way too low, and his attempt at a New York accent was abysmal. Nevertheless, Peter couldn’t help but blush when Harley said the _b_ word. He felt his chest warm as he imagined what that might be like. Probably pretty similar to how they were now, spending most of their time attached at the hip, bickering constantly yet always being there for one another when they needed it. Except, being Harley’s boyfriend might involve more… kissing. And other stuff. Peter thought he might like that.

Harley continued. “And I was like, ‘No I’m not,’ not like there’d be anything wrong with that, I just didn’t like his tone. Anyway, He went on about how you ‘must be good on your knees to actually get a boyfriend, what with your face and personality an’ all,’ his words, not mine. So I punched him, and then he punched me, and then I split his lip and he broke my nose and then I gave him a black eye and I guess he realised I wasn’t gonna let up? ‘Cause he ran away to his fancy car then, so I came straight here. ‘Cause I knew you would help”

Peter had to take a minute to process all of that information.

“You beat up Flash,” Peter said slowly.

“Mhmm,” Harley replied, shit-eating grin still spread across his face.

“Because he called you my boyfriend?”

Peter knew that wasn’t what Harley had said, but he needed confirmation.

“No, I beat him up ‘cause he was being a dick about you. I didn’t really mind that he called me your boyfriend.”

“You… didn’t mind,”

“Nope,” Harley clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in thought. “I don’t think it’d be that bad. I mean, we’re basically already boyfriends, just instead of kissing you in real life, I only do it in my head,”

W-

Oh fuck.

Harley hadn’t meant to say that.

But Peter didn’t seem to mind.

Seeing as they both seemed to be on the same page about ignoring the garish wound that was still leaking Human Juice down Harley’s face, he said,

“You know you can kiss me in real life too? If you want. I wouldn’t mind.”

Wouldn’t mind was an understatement, but that didn’t matter. Harley looked at him thoughtfully, head cocked to the right like a golden retriever.

“Are you sure?” He asked. Peter nodded earnestly, so Harley took that as his cue to scuttle closer to the edge of the bed, and took Peter’s face into his hands, rubbing his thumb gently over the skin.

“Harley,” Peter breathed out, a pretty pink blush spreading across his cheeks for the tenth time that day. Harley only chuckled and leaned in closer.

“Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” He whispered as he cupped Peter’s cheek with one hand and brought the other into the curly mop of hair that was tickling his forehead. He gently pulled Peter closer to him, pressing their lips together briefly, before pulling back to gauge the reaction.

Peter, definitely did not squeak. And when he spoke, his voice definitely very much did not break. “T-that was so gross,” He mumbled, scrunching his eyebrows in a way Harley would have considered adorable, had it not been for the heart-wrenching words that had just come out of Peter’s mouth. Peter seemed to notice Harley’s smile drop and was quick to explain himself.

“No! That’s not what I meant, I mean, I have blood on my face. And it’s not my blood. That’s not supposed to happen! The only blood that’s supposed to be on your face is your own blood! I mean, no, there’s never supposed to be blood on your face, that’s ob-”

He was cut off by Harley’s lips pressing against his once again. It was a nice feeling if he could just ignore-

“Harley, can I get you some painkillers and stitch up your nose before we continue this?”

Harley’s shoulders dropped in exasperation, but he didn’t argue.

“One condition.” Harley lifted up a finger.

“Harley, you’re bleeding out through your nuise. No conditions.” Peter busied himself threading a needle. Harley reached out a hand to stop him. He was met with the same dry look Peter gave his computer screen when it refused to do his work for him.

“When we’re done playing doctors, we’re gonna go upstairs and play Mommies and Daddies instead,” Harley said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Peter groaned, and resumed threading his needle, now with far more passive-aggressive energy.

“You’re gonna regret saying that when I’ve stuck a needle in your face.”

And they laughed together merrily, until Peter stuck his needle in Harley’s face. He winced at the contact and shot his arm out to push Peter away. Peter snickered, relishing in Harley’s pain.

“All’s fair in love and war, Harley.”

“This isn’t war, Peter.”

Neither of them touched on the other part of the phrase. That was a topic for another time. For now, they were content to just be happy together, with their whole lives ahead of them (and plenty of opportunities for Harley to stick needles into Peter’s face, they were sure).

**Author's Note:**

> title from break my face by ajr (how fitting, wink wink)
> 
> feel free to drop a comment if you liked this! comments absolutely make my day <3
> 
> please don't hesitate to point out errors, this was written from 4-6am and it's unbeta'd because i have no regard for the functionality of my readers' brains,
> 
> okaythatsallremembertodrinkurmedstakeurwaterandgoodnight


End file.
